


His Hero Was Named Cecilia

by Rinari7



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Disfiguration, Dubious Consent, Flame Legion, Gen, Mention of Semi-Consensual Sex, Misogynistic Society, Offscreen Violence, charr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might have been Flame Legion, but he knew his sister was far better than he was, and he would do anything for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Hero Was Named Cecilia

“Ceci, Ceci, my lessons are done.” The dark gray cub pulled on his older sister's skirts, the dim light from the torches in the tombs making his orange markings look like flickering flames themselves. “Ceci, go out with me?”

The older, black-furred girl turned and smiled down at her little brother. “Sure, Rikkie. Just let me finish sweeping in here.”

Renvahrik nodded and fidgeted while he waited. He and his sister were the only cubs at Incendio Templum, his mother one of two females, not counting his older sister. They needed a few females, to cook and keep their ancestors' tombs clean, but not many. When his sister had been born, she was just added to the workgroup, and when he had been born, she was assigned to look after him. There wasn't a proper fahrar, but no caravan or runner wanted a cub to look after on the dangerous journey back to the Citadel. So his sire gave him lessons every day, and he was a quick learner. Then he'd go out with his big sister to play.

“Ceci, can we go down to the lake now, pleeease?”

Cecilia laughed and leaned her broom against the wall. “Okay, okay, let's go.”

 

The dirt was comfortably warm under his paws, the lake water comfortably cool. Summer in Diessa Plateau was every cub's dream.

“Ceci, look. Isn't that skale huge?” The cub's voice carried especially well here by the lake, and his older sister turned.

It was indeed a large specimen, as long as a small Charr was tall, with a sickly green tint to its skin, narrow eyes and sharp teeth jutting out of its mouth. At the sound of Renvahrik's voice, it swiveled its head from where it was perched on the shore a ways away, and looked right at the small male. Ren pinned his ears back against his head as the monster's gaze bored into his own, and froze.

“Rikkie! Go!” Cecilia's tone was hushed but urgent, as she stared at the advancing skale and edged between it and her brother. A sharp, sadistic grin split the creature's face as it slowly padded closer on its webbed feet.

Renvahrik clutched his older sister's arm and shook his head dumbly, shaking with fear. The female cub finally turned and looked down at him. “It can't chase both of us. Now go, idiot!” Her nostrils and her ears quivered, but her tone was fierce as she bared her teeth.

“It'll catch me and eat me.” He whimpered and backed up further.

“Just GO!” With a final snarl, she pushed him to the side with both paws and threw herself at the skale, claws extended.

The motion was the impetus he needed, and he took off without a backward glance, his paws sounding a staccato beat on the ground. He was young, but not too young to know that the males were supposed to be the fighters, the brave ones, and the rhythm of his paws mocked him. _Cow-ard-cow-ard._ Wasn't this sort of thing what he had been training for? He could make a fireball now, and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier, just those evil eyes and sharp teeth had... Something shrank inside him, died almost.

 

He ran a while, until his breath was ragged in his ears and he was sure he wasn't being followed, and then he slowed and turned, expecting to see his sister behind him. The fact that she wasn't gave him a start, and his eyes widened with fear at the thought of what might have happened to her.

“I gotta go get help!” And he sprinted the rest of the way back to the tombs and through the portal, where he knew there were strong, brave soldiers who could rescue his sister from the gigantic skale.

“No, sorry, kid. We got better things to do than chase after a girl,” was the essence of the response he got. Every time.

His mother's eyes widened when he related the story to her, and she pulled him close, but shook her head sadly. “I can't do anything. Don't go back there. Don't put yourself in danger.” Then she went back to cooking dinner, and he stood in the hall shivering, imagining his older sister being torn to bits.

He had to go back. She had saved his life. She would deserve a warrior's cremation, at least.

 

The sand on the shore told of a fierce, desperate battle. More so said the still skale lying on its side a short ways away, its throat torn and spilling blood, and the small figure lying partially out of the water--”Ceci!” He broke into a run, not wanting to cry, not daring to hope.

The first thing he saw was her fur—or rather, lack of it. Acid had burned away the fur on her forearms and left angry red splotches on her face. The water around her was a mix of red and yellow, blood and bile. _A vomiter skale._ It wasn't a conscious thought, more a side comment. His father would have been proud of him for remembering his natural history lessons.

He vomited himself at the damage—the first real carnage he had seen, though it was not the first time she had put herself in harm's way for him. Kicking off a rock dog, scaring off a bear cub, taking the spider's stinger instead of him, almost falling down into the rock pit herself as she helped him out.

 

“Ceci?” He slowly pulled himself together and looked at her again, wiping off his mouth with one paw. A slight groan answered him, and he began to gently wash the acid off her face with water from the lake. “Ceci, c'mon, I can't carry you.”

She coughed slightly and tried to stand up. He was there to support her once she stumbled and almost fell. Scratches marred her torso, but a smile spread across her face. “I—I did it. I killed it.” Another cough, and she almost fell again.

“Yeah, you did, Ceci.” He was quiet. It should have been him who killed it. Females didn't fight, and so she shouldn't have had to.

They met a spider on the way back, but he knew Cecilia couldn't take anything more, and a small fireball sent it scuttling away. It wasn't hard, and he felt even more ashamed that this was the first time he'd done it.

That was the day Renvahrik realized females were no less brave or strong or better than males. From then on he was the protector on their little excursions despite her being the official caretaker, and he hated himself for only starting after his sister was scarred for life.

 

 

***

 

  
Renvahrik smiled at his bandmates as he stood from his lunch, coughing slightly at the soot that seemed to constantly hover in the air here in the Flame Citadel. Taking in another breath, he stopped _that_ server on her way back to the kitchen. “Mind taking my tray, too? Since you're on your way back?” And he gave her a smile he hoped was simultaneously kind and yet sauve, confident.

She set his tray on her arm on top of the others, and returned his smile, hesitantly. “Thanks.” It was quiet, slightly hoarse, and he liked it.

The nineteen-year-old stared for a moment after her slim, light-furred form. He liked the way she had chosen the sky blue spikes in her hair to complement her sky blue eyes. She was always quiet, unlike some of the louder or more flirtatious servers, but he was a relatively quiet one himself. _I should test her out sometime. Don't want someone else to speak for her first._ He hoped she liked him, too.

But not today. He had orders to be on the training grounds in ten minutes.

The hall was dark, lit sparsely with torches, and he squinted at a figure hunched in the corner. Soft sobs reached his ears, and light, scarred forearms covered the female's face.

“Cecilia?” It had been a while since he had seen his sister, but he tried to speak with her every so often since she'd come to work in the Citadel.

Wide, tear-streaked eyes looked up at him. “Rik—Renvahrik?”

He knelt down beside her and looked her in the eyes. “What's wrong?” He had never been the overly protective type, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

“I—damn, it hurt—and I was so happy that someone finally wanted me, with my scars and all--” His stomach clenched, and he laid a paw on her shoulder, and she buried her face in his arm. “He said it would get better but it didn't, and I thought it would be good—some of the other girls like to talk about it—but it was horrible—and I wanted it, I thought I did, but I don't want to have to do it again! And--that's part of what I'm here for! I should like it!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes, then looked up at him.

“By Gaheron, I'm sorry. I—I shouldn't have cried on you like this.” She swiped a paw down his sleeve, even as another tear leaked out of her eye. “I'll—I'll just have to get used to it, I guess. Deal with it. It's not like it'll happen often.” She looked at her forearms, a pale gray, white tissue underneath sparse dark hairs.  _My fault._ He avoided his sister sometimes, because every time he looked at her he was reminded of what his own cowardice had done.

“I'll speak for you.” Then no one else could fuck her. If they did, they faced punishment.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, the whites showing beside white acid scars. “You can't do that! I mean, I'm sure you'd be gentle, but... and people will--”  
“I'm not going to take you to bed. You're my sister.”  
“But people will think you are! And your reputation—your career—don't ruin it! Mother and I are proud of you.” Her eyes begged him. He was amazed that she still cared, and it killed him that she did, because he definitely wouldn't have in her place. _Why am I the one everyone likes?_

“I'll work harder. I won't let them be able turn me away or overlook me. Cecilia, let me worry about _my_ career.”

“But--”

“By the Claw! Let me do this one fucking thing for you, okay? You can't stop me.” It came out more forcefully than he intended, and he swallowed.

She seemed taken aback, but nodded. “Thank you.” It was hesitant.

He helped her up and gave her a rough, quick hug. “Chin up. Back to the kitchen with you, Ceci.”

 

The next day, he learned the slight, pretty server was named Cirellen. She was even in Cecilia's workgroup. But he had already spoken for a female, and his appetite for certain things was gone for a while, anyways.  
His only company for that meal, and for many meals to come, was sidelong stares and the murmurs wafting from other tables as word spread of whom he had reportedly taken as a mate.


End file.
